


irresponsibilities

by gortysproject



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Gen, i've put this under rhack but it's really not shippy, jack is an asshole but What's New
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7155566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gortysproject/pseuds/gortysproject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys is dying whether Jack likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	irresponsibilities

**Author's Note:**

> this was just a really quick thing i typed up after the idea kept bugging me while i was trying to study :')

Rhys has spent so much of his time on Pandora staring down the barrel of a gun, he forgot they can actually shoot. So when he finds himself roughly colliding with the dirt, a bullet lodged in his stomach and August’s car swiftly disappearing into the distance… he’s actually quite surprised. It doesn’t last; within moments, shock is overtaken by sheer _pain._

He rolls onto his back, gasping, left hand pressing against the steady flow of blood staining his shirt. “No, no, no,” he mumbles weakly, wincing as he sits up to lean on his metal elbow. “Ohhhh, _crap_.”

“Rhys?” 

A familiar voice makes him look up, and Jack’s crouched in front of him, staring down at the wound. Concern draws his eyebrows together in a frown, and it’s an expression Rhys has never seen before on the AI. “Jeez, kiddo, you’re — you’re actually, really dying.”

“Thanks,” Rhys grits out, heart thudding faster. “Really. Really didn’t notice that.”

Jack, for once, doesn’t have a biting remark. Instead he instructs, “Shuffle back. Lean against that rock, that one there.” His voice is eerily monotonous. Rhys doesn’t like it.

Still, he does as he’s told, whimpering as he pushes himself backwards to rest against the boulder. Jack glitches out of existence to reappear next to Rhys, and the concern is now unmistakeable, almost _fearful_. Rhys feels faint, but just as his eyes slip closed, his metal arm comes up to grip his chin and jerk him forward. 

“Listen up, princess,” snarls the hologram. “You don’t get to die on me, ya hear?”

Rhys wonders if he can trick himself into pretending Jack is saying this because he cares about him.

“See, you and me, we’re a team. An’ if you die — well, that’s not _fair_ , Rhysie, ’cause I’m comin’ with. You wanna let me down? You wanna kill me ’cause you just _gave up_? Not happening, kiddo.” There’s definitely fear in his voice, Rhys decides, slumping forward. His right arm seems to be the only limb still working in his body.

“I can’t,” he mumbles, but there’s blood in his mouth and he’s choking on it, and he can’t breathe, and there are spots in his vision. Jack growls something in response, but the younger man can’t hear him anymore, the familiar voice seeming like a distance echo. 

“No,” Jack is saying, “no, _**you can’t do this to me**_!” His voice is louder, sharper, glitching as his expression contorts into one of anger. He slaps Rhys in the face with his own metal hand to get him to stay awake; it doesn’t work.

Somehow, as his heavy eyes blink up at Jack’s face one last time, Rhys thinks it might have been nice to die with the lasting memory of Jack’s expression as he feared for Rhys’ life. He never could get what he wished for, though, and his eyes close to the picture of unadulterated wrath staining Jack’s features as he screams at Rhys not to betray him. 

Only with his luck could he die with his childhood crush yelling profanities at him.


End file.
